


Kill Me First

by adrnired



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Espionage, F/F, F/M, Smoking, amelie can charm the pants off of anyone, angela turns out to be a badass, do not worry they will bed each other eventually, the mafia... sort of, this is very early on so tags will be added as i update to avoid spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-01 11:13:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16764022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrnired/pseuds/adrnired
Summary: When Angela was young, she ended up in a draining marriage and an involvement she couldn't leave.When she meets a mysterious woman in a bar, she decides to take control of her life. This includes getting revenge on everyone, no matter how hard they try to stop her.(Inspired by a variety of my favorite spy/action films, which I'm sure will shine through eventually.)*Disclaimer: I wrote this before S76's confirmation of being gay, so yes, he is married to Angela in this*





	1. The Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, this is the first fic I'm formally writing out and posting! This idea was the basis for a screenplay I'm doing for one of my classes, so I decided to go ahead and write it out in its fic form, since that's probably gonna help me plan things better. I don't have the whole thing written out, obviously, but this should be the prose equivalent to a feature film, and I plan on following through on the whole thing! (The first 3rd is all that's due in my class, which is boring, because the fun stuff really starts kicking up in the second half). 
> 
> Feedback is appreciated! (be nice pls I'm new at this, lol.)

Angela stepped through the doorway of the hotel ballroom, glancing behind her as the doormen saluted her. She immediately scanned the room for familiar faces first, noting that she would need to socialize so as to not look suspicious. My, my, was she hoping she would not look suspicious. She was currently en route to deliver a very pricy piece of jewelry to an unidentified buyer. 

She was reluctant to carry out the transaction, but her husband had convinced her that she was the ideal carrier for the object, since an unknowing eye would not question her as much if she was caught transporting a pricey necklace. 

She made her way through the ballroom, casting glances around herself at the other patrons, watching them intently. 

She took a familiar turn to the bar just around the corner from the main ballroom, a location she could get to in her sleep. God knows she spent enough time there over the years, considering all of these stuffy, high-profile events she has been forced to go to, even if she wished against it.

Taking her usual seat at the bar, she nods at the bartender, a wide-set muscular woman who could probably snap Angela’s head in between her thighs. Not that she’s thought about anything like that, of course. Never. 

“What’s your poison tonight, sweets?” she asks, while Angela is definitely not lost in thoughts of the woman crushing her head in between her thighs. 

Angela looked up to respond, and was met with the bartender’s eager eyes. She and Angela conversed often, as this was a place of refuge during these awful stuffy events. Sometimes she would have just one too many fancy cocktails and discuss her problems and offer silly, unrealistic advice. She knew that many of the bar’s patrons are wealthy and vapid, acting demanding and never really caring enough to engage in conversation. 

Angela wondered how no one wanted to talk with this bartender. She was tall, strong, and had the most charming short, pink hair that would normally look silly and out of place on most. But it suited her. Angela thought it softened her sharp features and made her look like she did not care for the physical stereotypes that most of her patrons fit. 

Oh, and her name was charming as well. Zaryanova. Aleksandra Zaryanova. Normally Angela thought that Russian was always a mouthful, and not very attractive, but she liked Aleksandra’s name. 

“Tonight I’ll take….. Oh, you know what? Surprise me.” Angela finally replied with a mischievous glint in her eyes as she snapped out of her thoughtful daze to finally answer Aleksandra. “I’m supposed to meet someone new here tonight and I’m feeling like trying new things.”

Right as she spoke that sentence, a striking woman made her way into the bar. 

She was slender, donning a slinky black off-the-shoulder dress that accentuated the curves that she did have. Her hair, which matched her dress, fell over her shoulders and Angela almost couldn’t tell where her hair ended and the dress began. She was marvelous. She made Angela’s simple and white ensemble look more “rolled out of bed” than “angelic”.

As she walked closer, Angela and Aleksandra both turned their heads to follow her motion. 

She slid into the cushioned barstool next to Angela and looked between the two women. 

“Oh, is there some news I missed? You two look….. how do you say, shocked?” she asked in what could only be described as a purr, French accent unmistakable. 

Aleksandra smirked. “Mm, just catching up on Sweets’ drink order. Can I get you anything as well, _mon trésor_?” For naturally having a Russian accent, her French was impressive.

“My, you do know how to charm a woman. I will just take a nice red. I am here on business.” She answered, winking. She turned to Angela. “Speaking of which, I dare to presume you are the lovely Angela? I was told I would run into you tonight. You are more lovely than they tell me,” she explained, with a subtle wink. 

Angela realized this is exactly who she was supposed to complete the transaction with. She was still flustered by how gorgeous the woman was. Sure, she tended to see a lot of beautiful people every day, and she interacted with them often. However, this woman’s beauty was special. While most around her embraced grandiosity, this woman radiated subtle but powerful beauty. 

Her attention came back to the situation once she noticed she was being looked at by both women now, rather expectantly. 

She cleared her throat. 

“I am going to go out on a limb and guess that you must be named Amélie?” Angela was ready to get her business completed and have the woman leave, if only to quit being flustered as soon as possible. She was always more put together than this in public, and this was ridiculous. She was even getting embarrassed in front of Zaryanova, for God’s sake. 

Aleksandra understood that a business conversation was about to begin. She knew that tone inside and out, so she turned her back to the two women and started absentmindedly cleaning some dishes and finalizing other customers’ orders.

Amélie moved her hand smoothly over Angela’s on the bar, eyes traveling upward to her face. Angela looked down to notice Amelie’s slender hands, and she suddenly wished that Amélie’s hand was not only on just her own. 

Angela was sure she looked like a deer in headlights.

“Would you mind,” she began, blinking slowly while staring into Angela’s eyes, “putting my new gift on?” Her eyes directed downwards toward Angela’s clutch, assuming it’s where the jewelry would be kept. 

Angela’s brow furrowed. “I was under the impression this was to be discrete.”

“Nonsense, _mon ange_. I may be discrete, but I am your buyer and this is my lovely gift.” She smiled, and Angela wasn’t sure if it was sly or genuine. “Won’t you help a lovely lady?” She cocked her brow. 

Angela was sure she was trembling by now. But she had done this before, and it was old hat by now. 

Amélie turned the stool so her back was facing Angela. She brushed her sleek hair off of her shoulder in one swoop, exposing her neck. 

Angela pulled the necklace from her clutch, admiring the jewels on it one last time. It really was a gorgeous piece of jewelry, and for a second she wished she could keep it all for herself. However, her attention turned to the woman in front of her, neck exposed. Oh, well. This woman would do more justice to the necklace than her own self would, she silently thought to herself. 

“Mon ange? Is everything okay back there?” Amélie asked, yet again bringing Angela from her thoughts. 

“Just admiring is all, I promise. This will look lovely on you.”

Angela finally moved after feeling like she was staring for years. She wasn’t sure if her light shake was just her imagination or not, but she chose to ignore it in order to seem cool and collected enough. After all, why would a beautiful, rich woman be anxious about helping clasp a necklace for another beautiful, rich woman?

Her fingers trailer over the cool metal of the chain in the back of the necklace, past the large and flashy jewels, taking note of how the two elements of the necklace contrasted each other. She briefly thought that there was probably a metaphor in how such a dainty and simple never-seen chain could hold up such a magnificent and attention-grabbing necklace. 

She followed the chain to the clasp, taking extreme caution to not allow a single hair of Amélie’s near, because it would be beyond embarrassing if she got any hairs caught in the clasp. But, of course, Amélie’s hair was so sleek and perfect, there was not a single hair nearby to get caught. Angela wondered how this woman was real.

Amélie swiveled the bar stool back around to face Angela and Aleksandra. If Angela was breathless before, she had to be fully deceased now. The necklace’s flashy nature complemented Amélie’s dress wonderfully, providing an elegant pop to her look, pulling the ensemble together. It even matched her shoes, and that detail did not pass Angela by. 

“Do I look as marvelous as I feel?” Amélie asked cheekily. She was beautiful, and she knew it, with or without the flashy necklace. Her attention returned to the glass of wine that appeared while Angela was helping with the necklace, and took a danty sip. “This wine is lovely, Miss, ah, what was your name again?”

“Zaryanova.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Zaryanova.” She tapped her well-manicured pointer finger to her chin, as if that would help her remember the woman’s name. “A charming name to fit a charming woman, who also has impeccable taste in wine. Many would call you trouble, Miss Zaryanova.” She winked again. Aleksandra did not show the slightest bit of a blush, and Angela envied her for that. She’d be a puddle in the floor if Amélie had said something like that to her, she was sure of it. 

Amélie then continued to sip the rest of her wine wordlessly, rolling the glass every once in a while to swish the drink around. She finished it in one long sip, possibly being the only one to make gulping a glass of wine look classy. 

She reached into her own clutch and fished out some very crisp and very large bills, slipping them over to Aleksandra while smiling suavely. 

She stood up from her stool, and leaned over to Angela before taking her leave from the bar. Before Angela knew it, Amélie had leaned in extremely close to her face, pressing her lips ever so lightly to her cheek in a small kiss. Before Angela could protest or squeak in embarrassment, Amélie pulled a card from the front of her dress, in between her breasts, and held it between her pointer and middle fingers while extending it out to Angela. 

“It is so difficult for women like us in a world like this. Do not hesitate to call me if you need assistance any time or would… simply like some company. Do take care, _mon ange_.” Amélie closed with, before sauntering back out of the hotel bar. 

Aleksandra leaned in to Angela, who was still dumbfounded and not sure if she had been hit on, asked to contact an escort, or both. The kiss did not help, either.

“You’re going to have to keep an eye on that one, Sweets.” 

Aleksandra then winked at her. Angela was extremely flustered by now. 

However, as Angela was busy being flustered, Amélie still had her work to do concerning Angela. She slinked out of the bar, noticing a man leaning up against the wall, arms crossed, in a corner just outside the bar. He had definitely been observing the entire exchange and interaction from afar. 

Amélie moved closer, confirming that this man was none other than the Jack Morrison, Angela’s current husband, as well as the head of the twisted organization he ran with her. Rumor had it, Angela was coerced into being in this position due to her relationship with Jack and some debts she had when the two first got together. The idea of their relationship and what Angela likely had to deal with on a regular basis made Amélie sick to her stomach. 

She removed the thought out of her head as she made her way closer to Jack. She needed to stay detached and professional, as she was still in the midst of a business transaction, and she needed to present herself in this manner.

Amélie now walked much closer to Jack, a sly grin spreading across her face as she began to speak to him. 

“She is in good hands, you do not worry. But, you might want to run, _mon chéri_.” She whispered in his ear, the bite in her words accenting the usually loving nickname. 

Her grin followed her out of the ballroom.

As she steps out of the main doors of the hotel, she fishes for her cell phone in her purse and taps on an unnamed contact. “Call the cavalry Gabriel, I have a damsel in distress to save.”


	2. The Motivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela decides to go on a mission with a new acquaintance.

It took Angela a few moments to recover from her nerves after Amélie left the bar. These moments passed wordlessly between herself and Aleksandra, aside from the clink of the glass being returned after being refilled with whiskey after whiskey. 

She was only brought out of her embarrassed trance by the reflection of red and blue lights on the rim of her empty glass. She raised her head to look outside of the ornate floor-to-ceiling windows, and her eyes blew open wide. She couldn’t bring her eyes away from the windows as the faint sounds of sirens grew louder and louder as more sets of lights showed up, indicating a strong presence of law enforcement was on its way. 

Not today. Not after a business transaction like this.

Did Amélie tip off the cops?

Angela swung her barstool back into place forcefully and fumbled in her clutch to pull out a few large bills, which she slipped under her glass before bolting out of the bar. 

She weaved her way through crowds and crowds of concerned partygoers, elites, and visitors. She did not miss how concerned they looked, some worried more than others. She knew there was a very good chance these cops could be here for any number of the others, all of whom dealt in businesses like hers. However, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were here for her, which made her start to sweat. 

Guests tried to pull her aside and speak with her, but she just shrugged them off wordlessly, speeding up. 

Every moment that passed, every step she took, every breath she took, every guest who tried to speak to her, the crowd grew louder in their chatter and concern. 

Angela finally made it to a large staircase and grabbed the bottom hem of her dress and began to scale it. As she speed-walked up the stairs, she nervously turned her head back to assess the situation. She stumbled, nearly tripping. In a panic, she kicked off her heels, not caring that one of them tumbled down multiple steps. At this point, bare feet were the least of her problems. 

Her breathing started to grow harder once she approached the top of the staircase. She leaned over the railing to observe the crowds below, checking to see if any of the police had made their way inside or if anyone was following her.

She turned on her feet, picking up the pace and making her way toward a long, carpeted hallway full of mixed-use rooms with mahogany doors. Each door had a plaque with its purpose or renter engraved on it. Her feet padded along the plush carpet as she inspected the plaques. None of them along the way gave her the answer she wanted. She sped up, realizing this would take too long. She arrived at the end of the hallway and was greeted by closed double-doors with gold-plated handles. She studied this room’s plaque, affirming it’s where she needed to be. Her husband had a permanently-reserved grand conference room in this hotel, as it housed his important (and clandestine) conversations with his friends and partners. 

Angela was about to knock on the doors, but she hesitated when she heard muffled voices. She leaned closer, and it sounded like shouting was going on. She looked over her shoulder and decided waiting out this argument wasn’t worth her time in the context of the chaos unfolding downstairs. She huffed, pushing the doors open with more strength than she wished she needed.

Jack Morrison stood in the room, in the midst of a heated conversation with one of his nondescript henchmen. He was slightly pudgy, probably around 40 or so, dressed in a pinstripe suit that didn’t fit as well as it should have. Angela couldn’t understand what he was saying, but he had an Italian accent and was speaking with shaky hands. Clearly, he was in a lot of deep shit with Jack. She also spotted a duffel bag on the desk, which could possibly be what he was so flustered about.

Jack looked up and noticed Angela standing there, frazzled and panting. He gave a sharp look at the henchman who was still defending himself, and shooed the man away. 

Jack turned back to Angela. He took in the sight of her, disheveled hair, bare feet, and all. 

“What do you want?” he snapped at her.

Angela took a deep breath, “Jack, this place is crawling with cops! You know they’re going to catch on to us eventually, and it looks like they just did! Hell, it was probably because of that damned exchange you made me do in the bar! What the hell do I do, Jack?” Her voice was shaking and she spoke very quickly, almost too quickly for him to understand. 

“They’re not here for you, you little bitch, thanks to the little friend you were busy schmoozing with downstairs.” Jack retorted. There was a massive bite to his words.

Angela hesitated. “I…. I want out, Jack. I’m tired of constantly running, looking behind my back, always being worried! I want to make real friends! This was fun a decade ago, but I’m so tired, Jack.” she sighed. “I’m done.”

Jack walked closer to her, and she slowly started inching backwards toward the wall. 

“What,” he growled, “You think you can leave me this easily?” He started to laugh slowly. “You, you really want out.”

He shook his head at her.

He moved in even Angela, crowding her. 

She continued to slink backwards until her back hit the wall softly. She whimpered.

Jack put his hands against the wall on either side of her head. 

He leaned in, mere inches away from Angela’s face.

“If you ever want to leave,” he began. He looked directly in her eyes.

“ _You’ll have to kill me first._ ”

Angela narrowed her eyes. “Maybe. I. Just. Will.”

She spit onto Jack’s face. His jaw clenched and he narrowed his eyebrows. 

He chuckled darkly.

“Good luck finding me, _princess_.”

He drew one of his hands back and slapped her across the face. This left her slack-jawed and shocked. 

Jack walked across the room to grab the go-bag, the duffel bag that was sitting on the desk in the middle of the office. He stormed out of the conference room, shoving a stunned Angela out of the way before slamming the doors shut. 

Angela only brought her attention back when she saw a small piece of paper flutter to the floor from a small side table next to her. 

She walked over to the paper to inspect it, instantly recognizing it as a very exclusive and very private plane ticket to Switzerland. She furrowed her brows as she tried to figure out who it was who left it behind. 

She then heard Jack’s words repeated in her head:

_Good luck finding me, princess._

Angela quickly picked up the ticket and slipped it into her clutch in the same place the damned necklace she gave to Amélie sat earlier in the night.

_Amélie._

Before leaving the conference room, Angela rolled her shoulders and shook out her hair, standing tall and confident again. 

She left the room with a renowned confidence. She still walked a brisk pace, but not the worried hurry she took before she discovered the police were actually here for Jack. She didn’t even bother to close the doors.

When she reached the staircase down the hall, she stood at the railing, studying how the crowd had changed during her little conversation with Jack. They were still as rowdy as when she came up the stairs. 

She stopped when her eyes reached a woman’s back at the entryway doors, noticing a familiar woman’s slender back. Amélie. She was in the middle of setting her phone back in to her clutch.

When she returned down the stairs, she collected the shoes she had kicked off and slipped them back on. 

A smirk grew on Angela’s face as she began to make her way toward Amélie, no longer any nerves visible through her eyes or her movements. 

She weaved through the crowd toward the doors, allowing herself to be stopped during this trip. She said hi and shared some cheers with a few of her closer business friends, feeling herself laugh again. While in conversation with one couple, she met eyes with Amélie and smiled at her.

Angela excused herself from the couple and closed the distance across the floor between her and Amélie. 

Angela smiled as she walked up to Amélie. 

“I… came here to take you up on your offer.”

Amélie arched a brow. “I am surprised to see you so soon, what is the occasion?”

“I’m sure you know already, but my husband has… run off, and I would like your help. You would be able to help me, won’t you?”

“I would love to.” Amélie smirked. 

“Perfect. Follow me.”

Angela took the lead, walking Amélie out of the hotel and down to the valet. The two women looked like day and night walking side-to-side, with Angela’s golden hair and ivory dress and Amelie’s raven hair and midnight-colored dress. 

Angela approached a sleek luxury sedan, clicking the keys. She opened Amélie’s passenger door first, and then her own, like a true gentlewoman. 

Angela started the car up and drove off. A soft jazz song played over the radio as the two women sat in silence on the ride through winding forest roads on the way to Angela and Jack’s shared mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, and I am so sorry it took this long to post! I had to wait until I got the notes back for my script from our reader so I wouldn't end up "plagiarizing myself" and having to explain myself. 
> 
> It's still break so I'm planning on getting on a better writing schedule so I can actually have regular updates, bless you, all of you who've waited for this!!
> 
> As a friendly reminder I'm still on tumblr (under the same username, adrnired), so you can hound me about updating if you want! Or ask me dumb questions, you do you.

**Author's Note:**

> So, to summarize, my update schedule will probably be weekly or so until winter break, and I'll probably update much more often once we get to that point. 
> 
> Follow my tumblr, adrnired, for updates! (or if you wanna share feedback there, chat, ask questions about characterization or plot, etc! I'm friendly and like talking about the story)


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